The Perfect Prefect
by insertcleverandwittytitlehere
Summary: Prefects are picked before the start of fifth year, and when a certain red-head receives his badge, Harry knows exactly how to respond to his friend's accomplishment.


**A/N:** I have been given a Time Turner by the QLFC and have been permitted to change the fate of one Potterverse moment! What shall I do with this power, you ask? Well, we know that changing even the smallest of moments can have devastating consequences.

For those who need a refresher of the original moment, please reread OotP pages 161-167, paperback, Scholastic edition, published 2003.

Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons checking in. This is J.K.'s world, not mine.

 **Word count (before A/N):** 566 words

* * *

Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.*

"What's the matter?"* asked Fred. He shuffled over to Ron, and soon his mouth was hanging open too. Harry felt his eyebrows knit in the middle, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Prefect? _Prefect?_ "*

George was bounding over now, and Harry watched as the red-and-gold Prefect's badge fell from Ron's hand into George's open palm. The twins, forever lacking tact and poise, immediately denied the validity of the badge, but Harry gave Ron a giant smile.

This was it, the silver lining. No matter what came next, whether it be ridiculous trials or the Dark Lord himself, Harry and Ron had a free pass. Prefect Ronald Weasley. Even inside Harry's head it sounded beautiful.

Fred and George had finished their barrage of insults, relinquishing the badge back to Ron. Instead of celebrating, or even acknowledging the power he had been given, Ron gave the badge to Harry, his eyes asking if it was real.

Harry took the badge, admiring the superimposed P over the Gryffindor lion. He brushed it gently with his thumb. "Ron," he said, "this is—"

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.*

"Did you—" quickly, the smile faded from her face. She was squinting between Harry and Ron, her eyes constantly returning to the badge in Harry's hand. "Harry? _You're_ prefect? But, I thought, I mean that's—It's, uh..."

"It's not mine," Harry said, holding back a laugh. Both he and Hermione knew he was definitely not the right pick for prefect. During his short stint at Hogwarts so far, Harry had disobeyed pretty much every rule, including but not limited to smuggling an illegal dragon, deliberately placing himself in harm's way, taking on a basilisk without asking for help first, going after a then-serial killer, and sticking his head in Dumbledore's pensieve without permission. He basically murdered a professor his first year, evil-parasite-Voldemort withstanding.

No, Harry was never meant to be prefect.

"It's Ron's?" Hermione asked, her face lighting up again. "I _knew_ it would be. Ron, you deserve it! You display all the best qualities of a prefect."

Ron, who had yet to say a word, smiled sheepishly at the two of them. The twins were making gagging noises now, but Ron didn't seem to care.

"Ron, this is going to be amazing," Harry finally said. "We can get away with so much more than before."

"Oh, no you don't," Hermione scowled. She turned to Ron and planted her hands on her hips. "This is a huge responsibility, and you will not take it lightly."

"What responsibility?" Mrs. Weasley had poked her head through the bedroom door, a pile of freshly laundered clothes in her arms.

Ron lifted his badge so his mum could see, and before anyone could blink, Mrs. Weasley was beside herself with glee, promising Ron a new broom and praising him beyond measure. When all was said and done, it was just Harry and Ron in their room.

"Well done, mate."

Ron, though his happiness lingered, questioned, "You think I can do this?"

"Ron," Harry smiled. "I _know_ you can."

It wasn't much, but Harry could tell this was a well-earned victory for the kid who always had his friends' backs no matter what.

* * *

 _*lines pulled directly from OotP_


End file.
